Last Day on Omega
by Palaven Blues
Summary: For the Day in the Life contest at Aria's Afterlife. Lantar Sidonis's last day on Omega with Archangel's team.


Lantar Sidonis stretched, yawning as he made his way into the kitchen. Cooking smells assaulted him, dextro and levo and different cultures' foods all mixing into an unpleasant melange. "What the hell is that scent, Weaver?"

"Eat a dick, sporkhead," Weaver snapped back, grinning. Her black hair rioted in messy curls, falling every direction. "It's called haggis, and it's amazing."

At the large communal table, Butler and Sensat laughed. Butler was built like a krogan, thick scarring nearly hiding his human heritage. Sensat, of course, sat enclosed in her exo-suit; no idea what she looked like, although he thought Weaver might have an idea by now.

"It smells like the crap that's left behind on a hunt," Lantar grumbled, grabbing a rations bar out of the cabinet. He didn't want to waste any of Sensat's purified food, and neither he nor Garrus liked to cook often for just a couple of turians. He flopped down at the table.

_"Keelah,_ I wish you people would get properly dressed before coming to breakfast," Sensat muttered, shifting further from the two males.

Lantar looked down at himself, then at Butler. They were both covering anything the females might find offensive, weren't they? Some of the races had such weird ideas about remaining fully clothed.

Weaver finished whatever abomination she was fixing, then slid onto the bench seat next to Sensat, wrapping an arm around her waist, planting a quick kiss on her hood. "Yeah, I don't get that. You'd think if you were all dangly, you'd want to hide that shit."

Butler roared laughter, slamming one fist into the table. "Hey, I'm wearing underwear. You know if you ever change your mind, want to try some dangly ..." He trailed off, waggling his eyebrows.

"I'm not dangly," Lantar muttered, mandibles tight against his face in embarrassment. Weaver really would say anything, wouldn't she?

Weaver leaned in toward Butler, nearly at kissing distance.

Lantar shot a quick glance to Sensat, eyes wide, but if she noticed what her bondmate was doing, she didn't seem concerned.

"You know, Butler, there is something to be said for trying new things ..." She paused to let her eyes trace over the bulging muscles, the thick scarring; when she bit her lip, Butler started to squirm under her gaze.

"Why don't you try something new, and go suck a giant dick?" she finished.

That got Butler going again; Lantar was continually surprised by how much humor the big guy had in him.

Sensat giggled, then pulled Weaver back by the belt. "Stop hitting on my girl, Butler. Find your own."

"You people are way too loud," Melanis griped, rubbing delicate blue fingers against her forehead as she made her way into the kitchen. "Who made vomit for breakfast?"

Lantar choked on the last bite of his ration bar as Weaver tried to swat the asari. "I told you, Weaver. No one believes any humans really eat that stuff." He ducked before she could take a swing at him, then scurried away from the table. "Hey, no hitting! Archangel wants me to go shopping for some tech mods today. I can't go out all bruised and broken."

Melanis rolled her eyes. "Then go do it. But put some clothing on before you leave."

"It's okay to be distracted by this fine form, Mel." He ran his hands down his keelbone to uproarious laughter.

Even Melanis cracked a smile, nursing her hangover with plain black coffee.

"Alright, tell the boss I'll be back later." He grinned, tipping one mandible. It almost hurt how much he loved them all. He'd never had a family before he and Archangel started the team here on Omega; he and his mother had fought, and none of the kids he'd schooled or trained with seemed interested in becoming more than acquaintances. Somehow, the skinny kid who'd had to make up two years of school was never on the top of anyone's list.

Here, it was different, though. He was different. He made his way through the base to his bunk, shrugging into a fresh tunic and pair of pants once he got there. Here, he was one of the team. Practically a brother to Garrus, and if that wasn't amazing, he didn't know what qualified. His mandibles clamped tight again; every time he tried to speak to the boss, it came out sounding like hero-worship. Garrus didn't seem to mind, though.

Lantar could hear his hero's thick snoring from down the hall as he got dressed. He and Mel must have really tied one on last night. Lan didn't know what drove the man to drink so, and the one time he'd asked, Garrus's flat stare had made it clear not to ask again. But maybe someday, Garrus would confide in him.

Fully dressed now, Lantar paused once more at the kitchen. Krul and Vortash had stumbled out to breakfast by then, and the place was roaring with inside jokes and roughhousing. Krul and Butler sat arm-wrestling while Melanis called them idiots, smiling all the while. He stayed and watched them for a moment, wearing his own idiot grin. That bunch of fools. His surrogate family.

Lantar felt uncomfortable about that, sometimes. Like this loving pseudo-family was undeserved, and that sooner or later someone was going to figure that out and he'd lose it all. _Right, sure, and _zara_ prowl outside your window at night, too. Quit being such a silly child._ He clicked his mandibles and headed out, reminding himself not to be so stupid.

Three streets from the base, Lan started to feel uneasy. Had he forgotten something? He patted down his tunic; credit chit, list, fake data chips for the omni, in case he needed to show identification anywhere ... what could it be? He did not relish the idea of having to go back to the base for anything; he felt like such a _child_ when he forgot something simple. And he was always fucking up in little ways like that. Garrus didn't tax him about it, but he could feel the judgement from everyone else ... he was _sure_ he wasn't imagining it.

But he didn't seem to have forgotten anything this time. What could he be feeling so nervous about?

"That's him," a krogan growled.

Before Lantar could react, someone seized his arms, someone else dropped a hood over his face and crest, and they started dragging him away. His heart leapt into his throat, clogging his mouth with sudden panic.

_oh shit i fucked up i fucked up_

He tried to wriggle loose enough to shout a warning into his omni, but they wrenched his arms behind him and slammed a fist into his face before he could say more.

"Save your voice," the krogan told him. His voice ground out low and menacing, not carrying further than Lantar's aural canals. "You're gonna tell us everything you know about Archangel and his squad, and if you don't do it fast, you'll be needing your voice for screaming."

Lan's stomach sank as the words hit him. They were going to hurt him. They were going to get everything from him, eventually. His superiors in the military taught turians in their first week that anyone will break, and later, they'd proved it.

_You know what you forgot, brainless. You forgot to check your surroundings until you got to more populated areas._

_Please, just let them kill me before my fuck-up costs me the team._

_#_

_Please, no more._

Lantar tried to say the words aloud, but he couldn't seem to make any more sound. He lay on the floor of his cell, motionless. The krogan had left because _he_ needed a break.

Every centimeter of him was bruised and broken. Still, he hadn't given them anything. So far. He had screamed like a salarian when the krogan stepped on his spur, putting his weight on it until it snapped. Lantar shivered, every muscle in his body screaming in protest.

"Long day, huh?"

_Krogan's back. Fight him, make him kill you_. He jumped to his feet, slamming into the krogan with his full weight, driving him to the wall—

No; no, he stayed on the ground, lying in the position they last left him in. His arm twitched feebly, almost reaching toward the krogan's foot.

The krogan crouched beside him, sighing. "Look, they think we can get you. A few days, a few weeks; they think you'll break. Me, I think you're tougher than that. These aren't just people you work with, you're close. Almost like family, huh?"

A shudder wracked Lantar's frame, pain ripping through him. The krogan patted him on the shoulder.

"But then ... they say everyone breaks, don't they? Eventually, you're going to give us the base. Everyone you know will die. Unless ..."

Lantar croaked trying to speak, coughed, tried again. "Unless?"

Sighing again, the krogan sat. "I wasn't always Blood Pack, you know? I used to have a tight crew. We were like family. I'd hate to see you get them all killed, when you're trying so hard not to. Maybe ..."

Through the cacophony of pain, Lantar felt a flare of hope, unburdened by suspicion. The krogan wanted to help him. He could get him out of here. "Help ... escape ...?" he begged.

"I can't do that, they'd have my hide. But ... look, maybe if you give up Archangel, I can convince them to cut you loose. Surely, he'd be willing to make the sacrifice for his team. He's a good guy you work for, yeah?" Under his breath, he muttered, "Gotta be better than working for Blood Pack, anyway."

Lantar tried to hide the sudden smile. The krogan's muddy, yellow eyes looked sad, and willing to help. "Come ... with me. We'll get out, and you can join up." He paused, realizing with a chill he'd almost said Garrus's name. "Archangel will take you, I'm sure of it."

"I don't know ..." The krogan shifted. "They'll kill me if they even find out I'm talking about this. I'm supposed to be getting his name, the location of the base. If they hear us ..." He got up suddenly. "No, I'm sorry. It's too risky. Just give the base up. Come on, don't make me hurt you any more."

_Nooo!_ "Wait ... please. We can go ... right now. Help me." Lantar struggled to find his feet, unable to really move until the krogan got an arm under him and levered upward.

Yellow eyes watched him, evaluating before he answered. "We can't just go to your base, they'll kill me ... Do you think Archangel would meet us? Then he can tell them I'm with you."

"Yeah, that'll work. Just ... get us away from here, first."

"Okay, okay. Hang on." The krogan propped Lantar up by the door to the cell before opening it. "Wait here a minute," he said, then slipped out into the hall.

Long minutes passed while Lantar waited, just long enough for him to start worrying. The krogan wasn't betraying him, was he? Surely not. He seemed to jump on the idea of joining Archangel, instead of trying to kill him. He didn't have too long to ponder that before the krogan came back, panting.

"The hall's clear. I can get us to the street, then we just call Archangel. By tonight, we'll be safe again."

Lantar could have wept with relief. He'd never thought he'd be able to get out of this. The krogan put an arm around his waist, half-dragging him out of the Blood Pack base.

_By tonight, we won't just be safe. I'll know exactly where this base is; tonight me and ... this guy can lead Garrus and the team back, and we'll wipe them out._ Lantar made a mental note to get this guy's name at some point; he should know his savior's name. But, hey. The guy was joining them. They'd have plenty of time to exchange names and stories.

It only took a few minutes to find the street, and a few more to get safely away.

"Call him, have him come meet us. I'm getting nervous already. What if they catch us?" The krogan glanced around, as if he thought Blood Pack would come streaming out of every alley any second.

"Don't worry about it," Lantar said. His slid down the wall, sitting on the ground. "Just keep an eye out. Where should we meet."

"There's an empty warehouse over in the Kenzo district. Blood Pack doesn't have any presence. Should be safe enough there."

"Archangel," Lantar crowed as soon as Garrus answered. "You'll never guess. Big operation, we'll need your help on this one."

_"'We,' Sidonis? What's going on? Are you alright?"_

Lantar laughed. He was free, he was heading back to his team, and they were about to chew the head off of Blood Pack. "I'm fine, now. Just drop whatever you're doing and get out here. Abandoned warehouse in Kenzo, got it?"

_"I'll be right there."_

Grinning, Lantar let the call disconnect. "Help me up, buddy. We'll get out to Archangel, and we're gonna come back and burn Blood Pack to the ground."

"Sure we will, kid." The krogan grabbed Lantar's arm, harder than he had before.

"Ow, hey." Lantar started to protest, but the korgan spun him around, slamming him into the wall and twisting his omni-tooled arm up behind him.

"We good?" the krogan asked.

Lantar sputtered, anger and confusion warring. "What do you mean, are we good? You're—"

_"Just waiting. Hang on."_

The voice responded from the krogan's omni-tool; he hadn't been talking to _him._ Something wasn't right, here.

"What exactly—"

"Shut up a minute." The korgan shoved, and Lantar was suddenly all-too-aware of all his injuries again, forgotten in the exhilaration of escape.

_Oh, shit, I think I fucked up somewhere._

The krogan's omni beeped again, a voice cutting through almost instantly. _"There he is! Blue streak just came flying out of their base. Come on, let's move, I want every one of them done before Archangel suspects anything is wrong."_

"Wait, what?" Lantar yelled. No, this wasn't right. They ... they were escaping. They weren't ... "You wanted me to give you the base," he said. He'd held out. He hadn't given them anything, not the base, not anyone's names.

"Kid, we've known the location of your little hideaway for weeks. We wanted Archangel's name, but then you volunteered to lure him out."

_No ... no, wait, that's not ... Lantar heard a buzzing, then a flare of heat on his arm. Killed my omni. Fuck, they killed my omni. How fast can I get to Kenzo? I have to get to him._

"Here," the krogan said, letting go of him and dropping something at his feet.

Lantar pulled his arm back slowly. "What's this?"

"For your trouble. You can go meet Archangel if you want, but he's going to kill you the second he finds out what you did. I recommend you get the fuck gone before that happens."

_Credit chits. He's paying me for what I've done._ "You ... you said we were escaping."

"Aw, come on, quit that. You got all excited and said that. I was just gonna hit you some more 'til you gave it up. Get lost, kid. You're too young for this kind of thing."

Lantar gaped at the krogan's back as he left. No, he couldn't ... he'd said they were ... hadn't he? Lan rubbed at his head, feeling along his new injuries. He couldn't remember anymore. What he did remember was that he'd called Garrus away to Kenzo district, and now Blood Pack was wiping out the base.

He reached for the credit chit, moving slowly as each ache and pain reasserted itself.

Paid. He fucking gave them Garrus, they were assaulting the base right now, and they _paid_ him for it. He felt filthy. He'd like nothing more than to shatter the damn chit, fling the pieces in the street. But then ... he already knew they wouldn't be able to take Garrus out.

By tonight, Garrus Vakarian, also known as Archangel, was going to know exactly what he'd done. Lantar shivered. He would have to look him in the eye and explain how he'd fucked this up.

Could he fix it, maybe? If he got back to the base ... no, he couldn't warn them in time, the Pack was already attacking.

And it wouldn't do any good to try to tell Garrus now. By the time he could get ahold of him, the entire team might be dead back at the base. There was nothing he could do to fix it. So instead, he staggered toward the docks, hugging the walls whenever possible. The only thing he could do now was get away. Garrus would still kill him, if he survived. But hopefully he'd be kind enough to shoot him in the back, so he didn't have to face the look of disappointment in his blue eyes.

Every step brought him further away from any potential atonement. Sure, he couldn't save the day, hobbling and broken as he was ... but he could go. He could lay some cover fire, go out in a hail of bullets, maybe buy a few seconds for someone to escape. He could do something, and he tortured himself with the knowledge as he shuffled his way in the wrong direction for heroics.

Progress was slow, but he eventually made it to the docks, buying his seat on the first ship that was leaving. He settled into a plush chair, eyes drooping. He'd started the day surrounded by family, and now he was ending it on a ship, abandoning them to their fate, surrounded by people who didn't even ask why his mandibles hung crooked, why one spur was broken nearly off.

He'd known it was undeserved. Not just too good to be true, which universal justice would eventually set right. No, this was Lantar Sidonis not being good enough, and it was Lantar Sidonis's own failings that shattered the fragile dream.

Lantar drifted off to sleep as the ship hit the mass relay, hoping that maybe the damn thing would explode before they arrived at their destination. Although even if he died today, he'd still have to explain to Garrus what he'd done when they met in the afterlife.

_Well, I guess I'll just tell him that's what happens when you trust Lantar Sidonis not to fuck up._


End file.
